Entrance

Marvel usually has dinner outside with his business partners. But, tonight is probably my luck.

"How was the meeting with your guests today, Sir?" I smiled as I asked, pouring more wine into Marvel's glass.

The dining room carried a tranquil vibe interwoven with the aroma of the cuisine together. In that otherwise bare-essentials Marvel favored so much, was a solitary wine glass. It was his chosen luxury. Perhaps, a signal he wanted to eat and drink alone. Yet, to the contrary, he didn't let me leave.

"They're my business partners now, but were my childhood friends back in the days. And rather than talking about heavy stuff, we usually joke around while having some good whiskey. It's been a while, so it was fun."

Toward his response, my smile was floating faintly. What I know about is a group of men discussing a plot when even in this century, the Mafia has continued to be involved in a broad spectrum of illegal activities and evil schemes.

"You seem alright," Marvel resumed. "I guess you're fine with that amount of intensity."

His voice sounded proud, his eyes glittering while watching the wine slowly swirling inside the glass which the stem he was lightly holding. 

"It was so rare of you to get excited, Sir," I felt no resentment toward his arrogance, bitterly smiling for every pain he neglected.

"You could tell?"

I nodded. "Was it because of the apron?"

"Hmm... Who knows."

It was such a long pause, but I was sure he would be saying yes.

There was an awkward silence where we were focusing on something inversely different. I glanced at his food and he was barely eating them.

"Aren't you going to finish your dinner, Sir?" I asked him.

"Do you want me to finish it?" He asked me back.

If I said yes, I got a feeling he would demand a reason. If I said no, that would be odd. At this moment, the silence was my best choice. The alternative was an attraction; an attempt to hold his entire attention.

"Come here."

With those words, to my amazement, this time too, Marvel spared me another answer. He crossed his legs and tapped his lap, signaling me to sit on it.

I didn't react immediately, doubting, but finally straddle him by the chair. Crowded. I as best tried to minimize my movement.

"Sir, I think you need to eat properly," I suggested, a bit worried about his health.

"What are you so uneasy about? It's not like I would die if I didn't finish this meal," he took a mouthful of the wine and I was watching the projection at the front of his neck jolting up and down as he emptied the glass. "But, if I were to die, what do you think would be the reason?"

Surprised by the question, I throbbed, but trying to compose myself and not show any shifts in emotion.

"It may be because of your enemy," I carefully studied his expression as he was putting the wine glass on the table.

"I got killed?" His voice was almost raised, seeming interested in my answer.

"Most likely," I was being honest.

"How?" He wanted to hear more.

"Gunshot," I abruptly judged with my logic. "Poison."

I came up with whatever crossing my head without giving much thought, almost nonchalantly, but for the next answer, my tone was a bit more careful and Marvel finally returned my stare. I could feel him gradually have the change of air since the moment I gave him my options, and as I had expected, I was the first to avert my gaze.

"But, if I may tell you honestly, Sir," I continued, wishing to melt the dense air. "You are the type of person who would kill your enemy first before they could even touch you, so our conversation just now was invalid."

Marvel blinked in astonishment before finally bursting into laughter.

"How could you be so sure?" He couldn't seem to believe what he just heard.

"That's just the way you are."

My voice remained warm, as if my heart beat so steadily even though I took a different view from Marvel. I simply said that it was his way of doing things. I could see him balk at first, but I was so accustomed to his ever-changing temper.

We are different. I absorb things and then respond more than react first, which Marvel mostly is.

"What about you, do you have any enemy?" Marvel began again, genuinely curious. "Despite being thrown by your late boss to the Mafia, you've been seeming rather calm for the past two years."

"Calm?" I grimaced rather sourly toward what I believed was sarcasm. "If anything, I've been anxious each day for the last two years."

"And what may cause that?"

"I... don't know anything about the person I've been submitting myself to."

The silence was laughing once more, dressed in its frigid outfit; an absence of sound. I took in the air with the hint of a menacing aroma; the fragrance of early danger, then suddenly a playful grin emerged on Marvel's face, marking the abrupt shift in his emotions.

"Marvel Yerevan. Twenty-nine. January, first. AB negative. One hundred and ninety-two as Gilbert told me last year. I don't regularly measure my weight, but I'm sure I'm pretty fit-"

"I already know that," I sighed, swallowing the irony.

"You know me, then?" He raised one of his eyebrows, quietly smirking to tease me more.

Before I knew it, everything was normal again. It was ease all around instead of the tension I grew to get used to. But, it was simply why I got more nervous, because it wasn't that sense of comfort I was familiar with.

Marvel has been setting it loose all this time, what makes him cautious now?

Obviously, I know he's been careful to me, but never clearly showing it because it might soil his pride, or that he is just as mysterious.

"I mean," I lifted my hands, softly cupping Marvel's face with them and locking his eyes. "I want to know what others don't know about you, Sir."

He looked up at me back with his typically unwavering gaze. He totally understood what I was talking about, but refused to take my point, so I decided to make a move first and approach him.

Advancing with an unflinching determination, I tried to make my words matter. As usual, though, I had no idea what he was thinking about them or how he would react to them. It was just... every time I tried to step further into his territory, he always gave me the feeling of either no return or no exit is possible. Still, I chose to ignore the warning despite knowing the consequences.

Marvel rendered soft laughter when one side of his lips twitched upward, unable to contain his amazement.

"And what makes you think you should know that?" He husked in a whisper, his eyes narrowing to focus on me. "Besides, will you be able to carry the burden and take responsibility for knowing what others don't?"

He leaned in closer, his voice low, as if permitting only me to hear his words.

"I..." I stammered, starting to waver to face him. "I got carried away and said something nonsensical... I'm really sorry, Sir."

Marvel softened, yet still smiled, though just thinly, never leaving my eyes that were already fleeing away. He came to my face, but then stopped before his lips and my own touched.

"That's not an answer. And you know I hate listening to apologies."

After his words, he slightly went backward and aimed at my jaw, with his nose and lips fondling the sharp line. I felt each nerve of my body curl by the enticement, my limbs starting to lose strength. Tickled, I squirmed above his lap, my hands gripping the cloth on his back and waiting for the chance to secure them around his neck.

I still didn't lean in, not making it easy or seeming too keen, but then his hands slipped under my jacket and caressed my back through the shirt. In a single pull, we were already so close that I could feel his lean, muscular body pressed up against me. My mind had placed our lips together, but instead, he kept stroking my back, slow and gentle. He was making me wait and I could hardly handle it.

"Asta, I'm sleepy."

That unexpected sound broke the suspense and I flinched. To my surprise, Marvel blocked my path to get near him and I couldn't do anything but stop right there.

"I understand..." I glanced at the clock in bewilderment, but acted calmly. "You should go to your room and take some rest."

Eight o'clock is way early for him to sleep, though, I thought to myself.

"But, I don't want to let you go," he added, changing his mind. "Not yet."

I tried to be indifferent. It didn't do to let someone with an ego like his, knowing how much power he had to do whatever he wanted. Being played with, I should have been angry. But, I knew I couldn't yet show my true feelings and act accordingly.

Not until I finish my job.

"T-then, please take me with you, Sir," I stuttered, feigning shy as usual.

After my low voice, it was my heartbeat that flowed along the ticking seconds, filling the solitude. The conversation had probably become shallow and awkward, but that often happened when I was with Marvel, knowing I didn't feel free to speak when the only choice I had was to obey him.

"Are you sure you want me to take you?" He questioned my decision.

"Yes, Sir," I made it clear.

"Even though you won't be able to get out?"

A certain word carried a warning I couldn't ignore, and for a second, I hesitated. A part of me wanted to get this over as soon as possible, while the other asked me if it was a rush. But, the entrance was already in front of me and I wouldn't wait for another two years to step in.

"Yes, Sir."